The Egoist eBook

“And there—­I would say of another—­you
subject yourself to the risk of mental degradation.
Who knows?—­moral! Trafficking the brains
for money must bring them to the level of the purchasers
in time. I confiscate your pen, Laetitia.”

“It will be to confiscate your own gift, Sir
Willoughby.”

“Then that proves—­will you tell me
the date?”

“You sent me a gold pen-holder on my sixteenth
birthday.”

“It proves my utter thoughtlessness then, and
later. And later!”

He rested an elbow on his knee, and covered his eyes,
murmuring in that profound hollow which is haunted
by the voice of a contrite past: “And later!”

The deed could be done. He had come to the conclusion
that it could be done, though the effort to harmonize
the figure sitting near him, with the artistic figure
of his purest pigments, had cost him labour and a
blinking of the eyelids. That also could be done.
Her pleasant tone, sensible talk, and the light favouring
her complexion, helped him in his effort. She
was a sober cup; sober and wholesome. Deliriousness
is for adolescence. The men who seek intoxicating
cups are men who invite their fates.

Curiously, yet as positively as things can be affirmed,
the husband of this woman would be able to boast of
her virtues and treasures abroad, as he could not—­impossible
to say why not—­boast of a beautiful wife
or a blue-stocking wife. One of her merits as
a wife would be this extraordinary neutral merit of
a character that demanded colour from the marital
hand, and would take it.

Laetitia had not to learn that he had much to distress
him. Her wonder at his exposure of his grief
counteracted a fluttering of vague alarm. She
was nervous; she sat in expectation of some burst of
regrets or of passion.

“I may hope that you have pardoned Crossjay?”
she said.

“My friend,” said he, uncovering his face,
“I am governed by principles. Convince
me of an error, I shall not obstinately pursue a premeditated
course. But you know me. Men who have not
principles to rule their conduct are—­well,
they are unworthy of a half hour of companionship
with you. I will speak to you to-night. I
have letters to dispatch. To-night: at twelve:
in the room where we spoke last. Or await me
in the drawing-room. I have to attend to my guests
till late.”